Dead Men Don't Tell Tales
by Missing Winchesters
Summary: What happens when the dead won't stay dead? What if they continued to live their lives as if nothing was different? And, what if they were out for revenge... Limp!Sam fun! Takes place after Heart
1. Chapter 1

Hi guys! Me and my friend really love Supernatural and we decided to put our brains together and try our hand at writing a fic. We're both avid fans of Limp!Sam and we think that may show through in this fic. lol.

Well, thats enough chatter from us, here is the first chapter or our fic **Dead Men Don't Tell Tales**.

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Disclaimer: We do not own the show Supernatural or the characters Sam and Dean. However, should I ever meet those two handsome peoples in the street i will not hesitate in kiddnapping them... in fact i shall take great joy in doing so, MUA HA HA HA HA HA!! Charlotte, whipped cream please...

Chapter One

He was worried; he had every right to be worried. After all he was his brother. But Dean's constant inquisitive questions were starting to drive him insane. He understood that Dean just wanted him to talk, but did he ever consider the fact that talking was the last thing he had in mind.

Sam had begun to understand the rationales behind Madison's death; he understood that lives have been saved because of it, but that didn't make the guilt and culpability lessen. She may have been a werewolf, but Sam had repentantly killed her, reluctantly ending her life so others can live. But that was their job, it's what they did. They destroyed supernatural beings for the preservation of humans, and that's exactly what Madison was; a supernatural being. And now, here he was a week after the tragic irrevocable events in San Francisco, back on the road with his older brother.

Dean had been filled with fretful apprehension the night of Madison's death, but the unwavering concern for his younger brother prevailed above all other emotions. Sam was distraught, and Dean had never seen him so patently expressing his emotions. And it scared him, scared him more than he was even willing to admit to himself.

He was concerned for his brother, and he had every right to be. He had suggested that they take a break from hunting, but Sam was adamant that they continue their never ending quest. Maybe it was his way of suppressing the burden of blame that he hold heavy on his shoulders. But Dean didn't understand it. Surely the idea of a break and normality would appeal to his younger brother. Obviously his thoughts were incorrect.

Sam didn't want to take a break; he didn't want to stop hunting just so he could think about past events. The truth was hunting was the only thing keeping him going, the only thing keeping him sane. A lot had happened in the past two years since his brother had collected him from California, and collectively all the events distributed some form of grief into Sam's life; starting with the death of his girlfriend, Jessica.

Sam had insisted on numerous occasions that he was alright, repeatedly telling his older brother "I'm okay, Dean. Honest." But truthfully he wasn't, and Dean knew it. He seemed to be coping, but Sam was still quiet, only occasionally speaking when he presumed relevant.

Casting another brief glance at his brother Dean inwardly sighed at the dejected young man that sat disconsolate in the passenger seat, his head resting inelegantly against the window.

"What?" Sam said with an exasperated tone in his voice. His brother had been casting momentary looks at him for the past half hour and it was beginning to get annoying. It may have been his brother's way of expressing concern but being continuously looked at was particularly vexatious.

"It's err just good to be back on the road again." Dean hadn't expected Sam to notice his discrete fleeting looks of worry, and hoped that his lie was believable enough to distract his brother's enquiring behaviour. But a sceptical look from Sam only confirmed otherwise.

"Dean, you were the one who suggested we take a break, and now you're saying you're happy to be back on the road?"

"Since when did you listen to what I say?" Dean smiled, playfully smacking Sam on the shoulder and hoping that his light-hearted behaviour would release some of the tension that had begun settle in the car.

"Don't change the subject, Dean." Sam said plainly, beginning to get annoyed with his brother's persistent attempts to get him to talk. Couldn't Dean see that he didn't want to talk? Surely he was the one person who could understand the reasons for his disinclination to converse.

Dean didn't understand though, he didn't realise the reasons behind his brother's reluctance, and for that very reason he continued to encourage his Sam to open up. Not realising that it was the very thing driving them apart. Every conversation they had seemed to develop into an entirely new argument where they would argue about irrelevant matters and exchange insults which they knew neither one meant. And it would seem that this conversation was also heading in that same direction.

"And don't do this again."

"Do what?" Sam's petulance was irritating to say the least, but in his current apathetic state Dean couldn't help but feel concerned.

"Just focus on the road, Dean." Sam said, attempting to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"Do what?" Dean repeated, unwilling to let his brother's comment slip. "Do what, Sam?"

The constant conflicts and bickering were growing old, and this was one fight Sam was unwilling to partake in.

"Where are you going?" Dean asked frantically as Sam's hands drifted to the door handle. _'He wouldn't be foolish enough to get out the car while it's moving would he?' _In Sam's current mental state Dean didn't let that notion surpass him. His brother was capable of anything, even attempting to exit a moving car. "Sam, in case you didn't notice this vehicle is moving and it's not stopping until we reach a diner. So buckle up and enjoy the ride."

When his brother made no effort to comply with his simple request Dean reluctantly slowed the car making an abrupt stop on the side of the road, the car's tyres immediately sinking into the soft malleable mud.

"Sam, what the hell d'you think you're doing? Are you foolish enough to jump out of the car while it's moving?" Dean shouted, clearly pissed off at the way his brother was acting.

"It beats having to put up with you." Sam shot back while he opened the car door and stepped out. What he really wanted was some time to himself, to think; away from Dean. He didn't hate him, he loved his brother, but why couldn't Dean just let this all drop. Whenever Sam wanted to talk about how Dean felt, Dean would snap at him and in the end Sam would let it go. So why couldn't Dean just give in this one time.

"Sam, get back in the car"

"Just leave me alone." Sam shakily replied.

"Look Sam. I'm sorry, but can you just get back in the car, please."

"Dean, I just…I just need some air, some time to think. Alone." With that said he shut the car door and started walking in the direction of the nearest town just half a mile away.

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Well, we hope you enjoyed that first chapter. More is coming very soon. Please read and review. It may make us write faster!! ; )

While your here i also thought i'd try some shameless plugging of another fic i wrote. Its called Black Agnes under the penname of Hailsy. Check it out if you want some more Limp!Sam action!

Hayles and Char


	2. Chapter 2

It's official. Writer's block is officially on the top of my "Need to kill" list. Or, it would be if I had one. Note to self... Anyway, here is chapter two with much love from us. Thankyou to everyone who reviewed.

Disclaimer: We all know that the boys do not belong to us, but there is plenty of whipped cream to go around!

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**Chapter Two**

A cold gust violently brushed past Sam, causing him to instinctively pull his coat tighter against the wintry atmospheric air as he maintained his silent walk towards the small town of Mortedale. The spill of light from the cluster of houses was getting nearer with every step. Within another half hour he had passed the "Welcome To Mortedale" sign. Its bright cheery colours only served to dampen Sam's spirits even further.

After a few moments of quick searching Sam spotted a telephone box and he jogged towards it. He crossed his fingers mentally that this phone box hadn't been raided by some bored teenager and still contained a phone book. It did! Sam opened it and browsed through the sections until he reached "H"; Hotels. He ran his finger down the page to the first one listed. He noted the address and headed off in what he hoped was the right direction.

Thankfully the hotel wasn't far off. Turning into the entrance Sam tried to hold back a grimace of disgust. The exterior paintwork was peeling and crumbling, exposing the building's weathered wood structure while the prominent arched windows that were situated either side of the doors, were covered in thick grime, looking as if they hadn't received a scrupulous wash in years. He considered turning around and going to the next hotel, but no, that wasn't how it worked. As annoyed as Sam was right now he wasn't going to break out of their habit. They got separated, they checked into the first hotel in the phonebook under "Jim Rockford".

He walked into the reception to check in. Barely acknowledging the cheerful girl behind the counter as she handed him his key. He slouched off to his room but upon getting there he realised his head was still to full for him to settle down for the night. If anything the long walk into town had given him time to think of more reasons to be angry with Dean and upset over the loss of Madison. He turned away from his room and began to walk back into town. His long legs carried him quickly as he wandered through the emptying streets as other people made their ways home to bed.

"What if's" and "if only's" ran though his head impeding Sam's thoughts and causing his currently preoccupied mental state to overlook the quiet tapping of approaching footsteps. It wasn't until forceful hands grabbed Sam's jacket and pushed him callously against a brick wall that he noticed he was not alone.

The indistinguishable outlines of a group of men obstructed Sam's view of the alley's exit as they began to assemble around him. It was hard to discern the exact number of men there were as only thick darkness penetrated Sam's line of sight.

"Look what we got 'ere boys, it's another one of them tourists" The men grunted in obvious aversion as the man who spoke cleared the crowd and walked towards Sam. His stature and posture suggested that he was the leader of this small faction.

"You 'ere to see them there ghost aint ya. Well I tell ya, we don't like people like you in this town." The men continued to grunt in affirmation, "and d'you know what we do to people like you?"

Sam knew it was coming, from the moment he got pushed against the wall he knew that these weren't civil people. He knew, because of the years of training he had received that these men would not allow him to pass unfazed by their meeting. But he was ready, ready for the expected assault. He was prepared for the looming attack and hastily ducked as a fist travelled towards him.

"Looks like this one wants to fight boys," the leader smirked, undeterred by his miss attack. "And if it's a fight he wants, it's a fight he'll get." Sam turned to face his assailants, for the first time noticing the four men surrounding him.

"Look," Sam begun, sizing up his chances of getting away in one piece, "I'm not looking for any trouble…" he was cut off as another punch was thrown in his direction.

Sam's reflexes immediately kicked in and in one fluid motion the approaching attack was blocked.

"Lets just pummel this 'ere touro right now. I'm fed up with this game" The man leaned closer towards Sam, his voice barely a whisper as he continued to speak. "And I'd rather see you squirmin' on the floor touro."

Sam took the close proximity to his attacker as an advantage, and punched the corpulent man in the cheek. 'That's not going to happen,' Sam thought viciously as he directed another punch at his foe, causing the man to hit the ground unconscious.

Goon number two came rushing at Sam and momentarily knocked him off balance. The leader of the small gang took this opportunity to land a solid punch in Sam's gut.

With a small choking sound all the air rushed out of Sam's lungs and he doubled over. The leader followed up with a punch to Sam's face. With a crunch the thug's fist connected with Sam's cheek.

Sam grunted as the blow knocked him back against the wall and a light show of stars danced around his face.

"Ya see," jeered the leader, leaning so close to Sam's face that the young man couldn't avoid the wafting stench of stale beer and cigarettes that invaded his senses, "we doan take kindly to touro's. You got that?"

Sam gave his attacker a dazed look before bringing his knee up to meet his opponents groin.

"Loud and clear" Sam muttered.

As his assailant went down Sam snaked his hands around the other mans head and drove his knee into the thugs nose.

A sickening crack signalled the destruction of the leaders nose as well as the end of control and chaos ensued.

The two remaining goons came rushing simultaneously at Sam. Screaming obscenities and throwing punches left right and centre. There was no coordination in their attack and their unpredictability made them even more dangerous.

Sam ducked and weaved and grunted when a punch made contact with his tiring body. He couldn't keep going like this. He was slowing down… but so were his assailants.

Sam blocked his next attack and sent a solid kick towards his attackers stomach. The guy went down clutching his stomach. Sam glanced around looking for the last of the thugs.

The man announced his presence with a strike to Sam's face that sent the young man staggering.

Suddenly the whine of a siren echoed through the night and the dark alley was lit up with flashes of blue and red. Sam turned to use the distraction of the police car against his foe, only discover the thug was gone.

Sam looked down and the at the mess of twitching, groaning bodies that littered the alley and deciding he didn't want to stick around to explain the mess to the cops he ran, dragging his tired, sore body out of the alley as fast as he could.

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Oh noes! Poor Sammy! I hope he's ok!

Bah ha ha! Please review if you liked it, and we'll try to write faster!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Ok, Sooooo soooooo sorry its been so long since this has been updated. I PROMISE from now on that you'll get regular updates!!! Thankyou to everyone who has reviewed so far, you all rock!!**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own the boys or the show sob**

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**Chapter 3**

Sam stumbled back towards the hotel, his breath hitching in his throat and his body aching all over. He didn't know whether he wanted to throw up or pass out.

He wanted so badly just to stop and catch his breath, but he could barely stand and he'd decided he could wait until he was safe inside the hotel room.

He reached the car park. His goal was in sight. He fumbled with his key, unable to still his shaking hands long enough to slide the key into the lock. Finally! Success! The key slid home and with a quick turn Sam got the door open.

In his disoriented state Sam failed to notice that the lights were on in his room, and the television was mumbling in the background. Slowly Sam's vision went dark and his legs crumpled. He didn't feel his brother catch him.

………………

Dean watched Sam sleep. The younger mans face would have appeared to be quite peaceful, if it wasn't for the bruises that mottled the smooth skin of his face. Dean had checked out most of Sam's injuries and from what he could see the damage wasn't too great. It was what he couldn't see that worried him. He hoped that Sam's lack of consciousness was due to shock and not some unseen internal injury.

He felt the first niggling of guilt gnawing at him. He shouldn't have just let Sam leave like that. He shouldn't have continued driving. He should have turned around and followed Sam at once. He was supposed to protect his little brother.

Dean had nearly driven to the next town before his conscience got to him, making him turn around. He didn't know why he'd done it, maybe it was the look on Sam's face as he turned and walked off? The look of pain mingled with the frustration he felt towards Dean at that moment. Dean couldn't let it rest, not this time. He had turned around and driven back towards the spot where he had left Sam, then on towards the town in that direction.

With each parting moment Dean felt his gut sink and he couldn't help but think that something was wrong. _Nonsense,_ he told himself, _Sam can take care of his own skin. He's fine!_ He reached the town and pulled up the Impala next to a phone box. Climbing quickly out of the car he went to search the phone book for the address of the first hotel. Climbing back into the Impala he hoped that Sam had chosen the first motel, and not chosen another one just to spite his older brother.

Within minutes Dean was pulling into the car park and leaping from the car. He walked the short distance to the office and made his way inside.

"Hello Sir, how may I help you?"

"I'm looking for my brother; Jim Rockford. I believe he checked in a small while ago." Dean smiled politely at the young female who stood behind the desk. She was fiddling with her ash brown hair, wrapping and curling the tresses around her finger, before letting it fall back to its original place, where it rested on her shoulders in perfection. Her bright blue eyes were prominent against her pale, ashen complexion, which was coloured by soft, rose tinted cheeks. The smile that crept across her face only increased the beauty she possessed.

"I'll just check for you." She tapped a few keys on her computer before she looked at him with a huge, bright, smile. "He's in room 32. Is there anything else I can help you with?" She grinned at him, causing Dean to raise his eyebrows in response. Then he shook his head. He'd check on Sammy first.

"I'll get back to you on that." He winked at the girl then left the office.

He found Sam's room quickly and knocked on the door. No one answered and the lights were all off. He tried the handle; it was locked. _Easy fixed,_ he went back to his car and grabbed the lock pick kit. Within moments he was inside. As he had been beginning to suspect, Sam wasn't inside. _He's probably gone to find food._ Dean reasoned as he turned on the telly to wait for his brother. He didn't have to wait long.

Not half an hour later Dean heard the scratching of someone trying to fit a key into a lock. The scratching continued, Sam seemed to be having trouble with the simple task of unlocking a door. _Oh God, _Dean thought, _he's drunk. _He remembered back to the last time Sam had been drunk, not fun.

He got up to open the door but Sam had finally got the key in. He stumbled into the room and Dean's mouth fell open in shock. Bruises were already forming on Sam's face and his shirt was caked with dried blood. Sam swayed and Dean rushed to catch him as his brother's legs gave way.

Dean waited by Sam's bed. Looking for any sign of Sam waking up.

"C'mon Sammy, wake up." Dean nudged Sam's shoulder and was rewarded with a slight flicker of Sam's eyelids. He shook Sam again, more determined to wake him up. This time Sam gave a low groan.

"That's it Sammy, time to get up. Up, now!"

Sam opened his eyes then groaned again, sluggishly moving his arm up to shield his eyes from the bright-lit room.

"Dean" He croaked.

"Yeah, Sam, I'm here. What the hell happened to you man?"

Dean helped Sam to sit up. Sam gave a small gasp as the movement jarred his sore body.

"I got jumped by some crazy gang. They attacked me for no reason at all and started accusing me of… something. I think it was about ghosts." Sam wracked his brain trying to remember what they'd been talking about. His eyes flew wide with surprise when he finally remembered.

"You ok?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Sam assured him. "They accused me of being a tourist. Saying that I'd come to see the ghosts. They don't like tourists Dean."

"I can see that Sam. Now what did they say about ghosts?"

"I dunno, just that I was here to see them and that they didn't like people like me. Do you think they're real ghosts? This could be our sort of thing."

"It could be. Look, you should get some rest. You're gunna be sore tomorrow. We'll check it out then, ok?" Dean tried to get Sam to lie down.

"Yeah, m'kay" Sam's words slurred as sleep over took him and his eyes closed.

………………………………

Dean sat in front of the laptop, the light from the screen illuminating his face in the dark. He had been looking up recent newspapers from the area. The news wasn't good. He was having a hard time wrapping his head around it.

Finally he turned the laptop off. Tomorrow they'd ask around town, _carefully,_ and see what else they could dig up.

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Next update will be coming soon PROMISE!! Please read and review, it keeps the writers block at bay. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey there! Thanks for the reviews. Here is the next chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own them.**

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**Chapter 4**

The morning light streamed through the threadbare curtains to where it settled on the still form of Samuel Winchester. As the light hit his eyes he gave a long groan and scrunched up his face.

"Ah, the sleeping beauty awakes."

Sam's only response was to scrunch his face up in pain. Every word Dean spoke drove nails into his scull.

"Come on Sam, up you get. I need to re-check your injuries, and make sure I didn't miss anything."

Sam felt the mattress dip on his left as Dean sat down beside him. He groaned, telling Dean he was awake and to go away. A spike of pain went through him as Dean prodded at a particularly painful bump on his head. Sam slowly sat up and swatted Dean's hands away.

"I'm fine Dean, they're just bruises."

"I'm sure you are," Dean was sarcastic, but Sam really did seem to be okay. "So, you were jumped by a crazy gang who thought you wanted their ghosts, or the towns ghosts or, someone's ghosts."

Sam nodded in agreement. "It's a bit hazy, but something like that. You think we've got something?"

Dean stood and retrieved the laptop. He handed it to Sam, "here, I did some searching, dug up a few newspaper articles and I found this."

Sam scrunched up his face from the bright computer screen and read.

"Hundreds of reports have been coming in to both the police station, and the newsroom. The residents of Mortedale are seeing dead people. Witnesses from our own staff here at Daily Mortedale have confirmed sightings of deceased loved ones.

Stranger still, as off the last report, residents who lost their loved ones more than two months ago, have not confirmed any sightings…"

Dean took the computer back, "and this." He clicked the mouse to another page, this one had a picture of a young woman, at least mid twenties.

"Miss Jackson was the first to make an official sighting report on Tuesday the 28th of July.

"It sounds so crazy, and at first I thought I was imagining it," she told us in an exclusive interview. "We'd only just lost him, and I thought it was just part of the grief, but then Mum said she could see him… and then, the craziest thing, my neighbours little girl said 'hello' to him."

Susie O'Conor was later interviewed…"

"This had pretty much been done for us." Dean commented, "but I think we need to interview that girl, Ashley. Would you look at that picture!"

Sam looked, she was pretty, long dirty blonde hair curled down past her face and she had large intelligent eyes. She wasn't smiling in the picture but she had fine crinkles around her eyes, suggesting maybe she'd been laughing before the photo was taken.

Nevertheless, they weren't there for fun or chatting up girls. He frowned at Dean, "we don't really need to interview her, we've got enough info from the two articles."

Dean laughed and snatched the computer away, "Look at this girl. She needs me…us… And Sammy, you can never have too much information about a hunt. Now get your lazy ass up, we're burning sunlight."

Dean grabbed his bags and opened the front door. "Well I'm gunna go! You can just stay here." Dean walked out and moments later the Impala roared to life.

Sam grabbed his stuff. "Yeah, I'm coming. And it's Sam!"

Tap, tap, tap. Ashley put down her book. "I'm coming" she called out, knowing full well the people at the front door couldn't hear her.

"Don't open that". Ashley's brother had followed her down the hall. "You know it'll be more reporters."

"Go away!" Ashley told him, "I'm ignoring you".

She opened the front door.

"Hi, I'm Dean and this is my partner Sam. We run a small magazine and we were wondering if you could spare a few minutes and answer a few questions?"

"Um… Hi…yeah…come in" Ashley could only stare at the two gorgeous guys at her front door. Ashley's brother moved to close the door. "Actually, no, you can't come in" Ashley glared at him before turning to Dean and Sam. "Just ignore him, come in, would you like a cup of tea?" The words just kept pouring out of Ashley's mouth. _Calm down girl. _She thought to herself. _It's not like you've never seen a hot guy before! _She moved to let Sam and Dean in. "Just follow me to the kitchen".

Once seated at the table Sam said. "Um, we heard about your brother's death, I know what it's like to lose someone close to you. Do you mind if we ask some questions?"

Ashley and her brother exchanged a glance. "Sure," said Ashley, "go ahead".

"Ok," Dean started, "your brother, his name was Ben? By the way, I didn't catch your names…"

"I'm Ashley and this is… um…"

Dean was staring open mouthed at Ashley's brother who had reached across the table to shake hands.

"Uh… Dude," Dean stammered, "there's a table sticking out your belly!"

Ashley's brother looked down in shock, and then leapt backwards.

"This is Ben" Ashley finished, "He died a month ago".

"He what?" Dean cried out in disbelief.

"For the last 2 weeks, people who are supposed to be dead have just been turning up everywhere. And I'm not the only one who can see them, you can, everyone can!"

Ashley glanced across at Ben, and then lowered her voice to a whisper. "It's not right, not natural." She looked at Sam's notebook. "You guys aren't journalists are you?" She asked. "You haven't written a single thing but the other journo's couldn't get enough of this stuff."

Realising their mistake Sam sighed. "No we're not journalists, but," he glanced at Dean who nodded slightly, "we think we can help you, umm… you could say we track down…unusual things and try to…make them right".

"Well," said Dean, "that was awkward. You think we got something Sammy?"

"Yeah, considering there are dead people running around, yes, I think we got something. By the way, it's Sam, Sammy is a chubby…"

"… a chubby 12 year old." Dean answered. "You've told me and besides," Dean smirked, "You were a chubby 12 year old."

Dean laughed as Sam spluttered, "I was not, anyway, you wore braces!"

Dean feigned hurt. "Me? Wear braces? Never. I'm hurt that you'd suggest such a thing, but hey, chicks dig nice, straight, pearly whites." Dean grinned, showing his teeth then winked at Sam before pulling up outside a library. "This is your stop."

Sam got out of the car and grabbed the laptop. "Tell me again why I've got to stay here and research while you get to ask around?" Sam asked as he shut the door.

"Because, _Sammy, _You are a geek and you enjoy that stuff. Bye now."

Dean gunned the motor and drove off. Sam sighed and shook his head before entering the library.

"Hey there, I'm writing an article for the paper and was wondering if I could talk to you about these ghost sightings?" _Slam_. Dean stepped back just in time to avoid breaking his nose on the door. "I guess that's a 'no' then." He muttered to himself. No one wanted to talk. Dean looked around at the busy street. People walking around, they all looked so alive, but how many of them weren't? How many of them were spirits? Dean walked to the next door. He decided to try another tactic. _Knock, knock_

"Hello," Dean gave the lady his brightest smile, "are you by any chance dead?" His question was met by a blank stare.

"No? That's good. I was wondering if you could answer a couple of questions?" _Slam_

_Jeez, _thought Dean, _This just isn't my day. One more door then I'm out._

_Why won't these ghosts leave? _Sam was tapping at his laptop, looking through old newspapers, trying to find out why this town was seeing ghosts.

"Can I help you?" Sam looked up at the librarian.

"Umm…actually…I was wondering if you could tell me about the ghosts? Have there been any violent deaths recently?"

The librarian hesitated. "Sorry dear. Have you checked the papers?"

Sam nodded. _This is going nowhere. I'm out. Hope Dean is having better luck._

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Next update is hopefully coming soon. It's written, I'm just waiting to finish another chapter after it.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: If this chapter is in caps or the writing is all weird let me know and I'll try and fix it. Dunno what happened to it last night._

Hey guys, sorry this is taking so long. I've just started Uni (as in last month) and i had to re-prioritise things writing-wise (stupid essays). Anyway, I have some more of this written and decided to post it. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: Still dont own

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Chapter 5

_Knock, knock._

"Whadoyawant?"

Dean took a step back from the man who opened the door. The man's beady eye's glared down at Dean. Leaning against the doorframe Dean could see a shotgun, and he didn't miss the grouchy man's subtle reach for the weapon. Dean decided to make it quick.

"I've just been hired by the local newspaper, and I'm writing an article on all the ghost sightings. Do you have a spare minute to answer some-" Dean was cut off by a low growl.

"Do you think this is funny kid? It's just ghosts, and if you knew any better you'd mind your own damn business." The guys eyes were twitching and his fingers were caressing the muzzle of his gun.

"Now get the hell outta my face before I turn you into ya own ghost." The gun was swung up and was suddenly pointed at Dean's chest. Dean raised his hands in surrender.

"Ok, ok, I'm leaving." He edged backwards to the street and quickly climbed into the car. That man was a nut job, and Dean had a feeling he was hiding something.

Dean and Sam met back at the motel at noon. Neither had much to contribute to the research.

"Ok, spirits that hang around on our plane are usually here because of unfinished business. Do you think this could be the case?" Sam was pacing beside Dean who sat cleaning weapons.

"All those ghosts? Here because of unfishished business? It doesn't make sense. I mean they all died at different times right?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I checked some records and the newspapers. Everyone who has died in the last two months has been sighted by loved ones since, and they all died at different times."

Dean put down the gun he was cleaning. "Well, no one wants to talk about it. They've all got ghost denial or something. This one lady damn near broke my nose with her door."

Sam choked back a laugh. "That's not like you Dean. I thought you were a lady's man."

"Yeah, well this one was a nut," Dean muttered. "But not like the grouchy man." He looked up at Sam. "That guy was hiding something, I know it. Overprotective was an understatement. Everyone else refused to talk, this guy threatened to blow out my brains."

Sam sat down opposite Dean. "So we'll check him out, we'll find what he's hiding. In the mean time… that's _it!_" Sam jumped back to his feet. "Ashley and Ben. He's a ghost and she's willing to talk. I could go talk to them, see if he has any idea of what's going on. You can look into what that man was hiding."

"Hold it one moment," Dean held up his hand to pause Sam's planning. "I'll go talk to Ashley and Ben, you can do research on the scary man."

"Dude, I always have to do the research, besides, you've already had one woman attack you today. I think you're better of with other guys."

Dean mock shuddered. "That's not even funny," he told Sam as he stood. "I think we should-"

"Rock. I win, and no best two out of three." Dean still took a defensive stance even as Sam turned his back. "C'mon Dean, I'm not challenging you to rock, paper, scissors." 

Dean sighed and picked up the car keys and tucked his gun back into his jeans. _Maybe I'll find a hot girl while researching…_

For the second time that day Sam knocked on Ashley Jackson's front door. Within moments it was pulled open and Sam was greeted with a bright smile.

"Sam, you're back." Ashley stood back to allow the spluttering hunter to step inside.

"Ashley, I just wanted to ask Ben some questions. Um, you know, to ah, figure out what's going on." He stared at Ashley for just a little too long. Suddenly he thought of Madison, just like Ashley she had had an easy going smile and long brown hair. Her death was still so recent, Sam sobered up immediately.

"We need to find out why these ghost are suddenly appearing." He followed Ashley into the kitchen. "If they have something they need to do before they can move on, no one else really wants to talk to us."

"They're pretending we don't exist." Sam jumped at Ben's voice. He had just appeared in the doorway. "Mortedale is a close community, and this is so… unreal. So people are just ignoring it."

"Do you mind me asking how you died?" Sam stared intently at Ben's form. He'd never interacted with a spirit like this before. Usually it was just salt and burn and then on to the next case, but here was a spirit that was not only realised he was dead, but he wasn't causing any trouble, he wasn't terrorising some poor innocent, still, he wasn't moving on.

"I died in an industrial accident I guess. I was a builder, a wall collapsed on me." Ben's voice was barely audible as he spoke and his eyes seemed to trace the pattern on the tiled floor. 

"Do you know what the building was for? Or who owned it?" Sam thought maybe he had found a link. Was it possible that the shop was built over some sacred ground? Or maybe the owner was into dark arts and raising the dead.

Ben looked in askance at Ashley. "We were working for a, uh, Mr Western?"

Ashley nodded. "Jack Western. He supervised the building of his store. It accommodates to hunters and the like, they come through here at certain times of the year."

Sam quickly jotted the name down. "Do you know if he was associated with any other deaths?" He looked up and found himself staring at Ashley again.

Ashley shook her head. "Not that I can recall."

Sam had to get out of there. Ashley was being so nice and helpful, but every time he looked at her he was reminded of Madison and how becoming involved with him had led to her death.

"Uh, well, thanks for your time." Sam stood. "Dean and I will be sure to check this out."

He let Ashley lead him to the front door, but hurried off before she had the chance to thank him.

Ashley let the words die on her lips and just smiled at the antics of the flustered hunter. She could wait.

………

Dean sat outside the hunting store owned by Jack Western. He wasn't ready to confront the man again just yet. Having a rifle shoved in you face tended to have a lingering effects on your confidence. Not that Dean would _ever_ admit to something like that.

He had received a phone call from Sam asking him to check up on the man that may be responsible for the ghosts, and as his own target hadn't been at home, Dean had decided to check it out.

There was movement at the doors of the shop and out walked… his target. Dean hoped he couldn't be seen from the car but the man was heading directly towards him. Dean tried to play it cool. There was no reason for him to be suspected of spying on anyone. Lots of people parked their cars…

The man reached the car; one hand rested in his pocket the other… was hiding something under his jacket.

"Oh hell no!" Dean cried as the man retrieved a wicked looking knife from his jacket.

Dean hurried to start the ignition as the man reached the car. Over the roar of the engine Dean could see the man yelling profanities at him. As Dean pulled away from the curb a loud scraping filled his ears. 

"Sonofabitch!"

Dean looked back behind the car. The man was grinning maliciously, his knife was held out towards the receding car. Dean swore he could see black paint dirtying the blade. That S.O.B had stabbed his baby! 

As soon as Dean was in the next street he pulled over to inspect the damage.

"Oh Baby, you've been violated" he muttered as he traced the ugly scrape that ran from the headlights to the taillights. Shavings of black paint clung like congealed blood to the edges of the Impala's gaping wound.

"C'mon, lets get you back and fix you up." Dean climbed back into the front seat and stroked the Impala's dash all the way back to the hotel.


End file.
